Change
by Tangelian Proudfoot
Summary: A night-time episode taking place a few years after Frodo has moved into Bag End.


Title: Change 1/1  
Author: Tangelian Proudfoot (tangelian@swipnet.se)  
Characters: Frodo, Bilbo  
Genre: Angst/drama  
Rating: PG  
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine, I'm just borrowing them. They all belong to JRR Tolkien.  
Summary: A night-time episode taking place a few years after Frodo has moved into Bag End.  
Feedback: Yes, please  
A/N: Thanks to ancalime8301 for proof reading! For those of you following my other stories here, yes, The Heart of a Healer *will* be finished, and the last chapter is in fact in for proof reading now. Thanks for your lovely feedback, everyone!  
  


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"Frodo?" Placing a soft knock on the privy door, the older hobbit lowered the candle he was holding in his right hand, moving in a bit closer to listen. "I don't want to intrude, but I was awake, and I heard you leaving for the bathroom... I can't help but notice that you have been in there for a very long time now... are you all right, my lad?"  
  
A few moments of silence passed, and the frowns of concern on Bilbo's brow grew even tighter, before there suddenly came a soft reply from within the room. "I'm all right, uncle... I just..."  
  
The voice trailed off in silence, and the older hobbit waited for another couple of moments before he spoke again. "Frodo, lad... would you mind if I came in?"  
  
"I'll be all right, Bilbo, honest..."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure you will... but I just wanted to check on you, that's all..."  
  
There was a small sigh from within, and Bilbo could hear the resignation in his cousin's voice as he spoke again. "The door's unlocked..."  
  
Slowly, Bilbo turned the knob, and let the door slide open. There was another candle positioned on the shelf by the folded towels, and its light flickered anxiously as he entered... casting fluttering shadows over the younger hobbit's pale face, as he was kneeling in front of the privy hole, supporting himself with hands that were trembling a little.  
  
"Frodo, my boy..." Placing the candle on the floor, Bilbo knelt down behind him, carefully putting his hand on his back, rubbing it gently, the fabric of his nightshirt slightly damp under his fingers. "What is the matter? Have you been sick?"  
  
The younger hobbit shook his head. "Just... feeling as if I might be..."  
  
He took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment, and Bilbo could feel him trembling as he slowly exhaled again, swallowing slightly.  
  
"Are you coming down with something?" The older hobbit's voice was filled with worry and pity.  
  
Frodo firmly shook his head again. "No... Bilbo, don't... don't worry, it's not... like... before... it's just probably something I ate at the fair tonight... those sandwiches did feel a bit old..."  
  
"My poor lad..." Bilbo kept massaging the younger hobbit's back in long, soothing motions. "Then, maybe it would be better if you got rid of it all... has it got any worse or better since you came here?"  
  
Frodo swallowed once more, but shook is head. "About the same... but it comes and goes..."  
  
Bilbo was quiet for a few moments before he spoke anew. "Maybe it would be better, then, if we could get you back to bed... and just bring a basin... so you could rest more comfortably, not having to inhale these lovely fumes all night long... what do you think? You're just... feeling sick, are you, it's not... the other?"  
  
The younger hobbit shook his head. "Just... sick... and yes... please... Thank you, Bilbo," he whispered in a barely audible voice, shuddering slightly, as if he was trying to quell a sob.  
  
"It's all right, my boy..." Rising slowly, reaching out for a basin from another nearby shelf, Bilbo carefully put his free arm around his cousin's chest, and the younger hobbit cautiously rose. Even as he stood up, Bilbo could feel the unsteadiness of his legs. "It's all right..." he repeated, "I'm holding you... just one foot at a time... there we go..."  
  
Slowly, they started walking down the corridor, now and then stopping so Frodo could catch his breath. After what felt like an eternity, they finally reached Frodo's bedroom, and both hobbits drew sighs of relief as Bilbo helped his young cousin lie down on his bed, elevating his head slightly by putting another pillow between it and the headboard.  
  
Once again, Frodo whispered a soft "thank you", before closing his eyes, allowing Bilbo to pull up the covers to his chin, placing the basin within easy reach.  
  
The older hobbit hesitated for a few moments, standing by the bedside, his hand resting lightly on the covers... but eventually, he took a deep breath, sitting down on the edge of the bed, carefully placing his hand on Frodo's forehead, his fingers burying themselves among the thick curls, gently massaging his scalp.  
  
Making a soft sound, but still not opening his eyes, Frodo nestled against his touch.  
  
But then, just when his breaths had seemed to become longer and deeper, he suddenly tensed, his eyes wide open once more, as he drew a shuddering breath. "Bilbo...!"  
  
But Bilbo was already busy sitting him up, positioning the basin in front of him, one hand supporting his head. It did not take long before Frodo started vomiting, his body convulsing and shivering as he rejected all the remaining contents of his stomach. It did not stop until it had reached the stage of dry heaves, painfully wrenching his small frame.  
  
Throughout the bout, Bilbo kept talking soothingly, rubbing his back, and as he was finished, the older hobbit wet a handkerchief with some water from the pitcher on Frodo's bedside table, gently wiping off his face and mouth. After offering him a glass of water to rinse his mouth, Bilbo gently helped him to lie down again, placing his head on the heap of pillows.  
  
It was not, however, until Bilbo was about to rise from bed, explaining that he would go and fetch a new nightshirt, that he suddenly realised that Frodo's right hand was tightly clutching his left; his fingers entangling themselves around his own.  
  
Putting his other hand on top of the younger hobbit's, Bilbo squeezed it tenderly. "My poor, poor lad... How are you feeling now?"  
  
"Actually... it does feel... better now..." the ailing hobbit managed in a weak whisper. "I'm just... tired..."  
  
Bilbo hesitated for a moment. "Frodo... Maybe it would be for the best if we sent for a healer first thing in the morning... just to be safe..."  
  
Frodo shook his head. "No... Bilbo... this is different... I told you... *not*... like before... I will be fine now..."  
  
Bilbo sighed. "You know why I worry... you gave the poor old hobbit quite a scare back then, you know... getting ill every time you *got* here, it seemed... your poor little tummy... Your caretakers at Brandy Hall hardly trusted me to take care of you there for a bit... and I couldn't figure out what I was doing wrong, either..."  
  
"I am sorry, Bilbo..."  
  
"Nothing to be sorry about, my dear lad... You couldn't help it."  
  
"I was so frightened, Bilbo... I thought you were going to send me away, every time... they told me... I shouldn't cause you any trouble, for if I did, you would never allow me to come back again, no matter what you told me... and since I already knew that trouble always seemed to follow in my footsteps, I knew I was doomed... and the strange thing was... just shortly after those thoughts occurred to me every time... I started feeling ill..."  
  
A small sob escaped the younger hobbit's dry lips, and Bilbo could feel his own eyes watering as he tried to find his voice again. "Dearest Frodo-lad... you were, and will *never* be a burden to me... and you know that... and that's what I've always told you, haven't I?  
  
Frodo nodded. "You have always told me... but only *now* I know what I didn't..." His voice was trailing off.  
  
Carefully lifting Frodo up into a long embrace, Bilbo could feel himself trembling with emotions. No words were spoken as Frodo buried his face in his nightshirt, weeping silently. As his sobs faded, the older hobbit carefully put him down again, his head resting on the pillows.  
  
Placing a soft kiss on his forehead, he cautiously rose from the bed. "I will be right back, my boy..."  
  
As Bilbo returned, carrying a tray with a steaming cup of ginger tea, and a clean nightshirt hanging over his arm, Frodo was already deeply asleep, and even in the dim light of the candle, he could see that some colour had returned to his face.  
  
Yes. This time, things were different.  
  
***FINIS***


End file.
